Unnecessary Sacrifice
by Purrfect iNSaNiTY
Summary: Basically admin outs scapegoat on hold and writes a marik/bakura fic because yus. and also because i like taking advantage of people's feels :3c
1. Why?

_Why?_

The scene is painted with red, everything varying shades of red, orange, and yellow. It's almost beautiful.

But there are bodies strewn everywhere, there are men collecting blood in flasks, the silhouette of the ruler of this land plastered against the glow from the flames.

A single white-haired boy cries out for his mother, "Mummy, mum where are you, where did you go?"

But he soon realizes he is going to die, and that everyone he's ever known is either dead or dying, and he slumps down, the silent tears rolling down his cheeks, the recent wound under his eye bleeding profusely, mixing in with the tears. He excepts his fate, and closes his eyes, and before losing consciousness, he asks once more.

_Why?_


	2. A Pure White Boy

Marik is scurrying around the palace once again, for the job of a Tombkeeper is quite boring. He often times will follow the guards around to hear them gossip. Most of the time it's just boring drabble, but this time there was something interesting for once.

"We finally have the Pharoh's approval!"

"Keep your voice down! We don't want anyone to overhear us. Now, remember, we wait for nightfall, head to Kul Elna, demolish the village, collect the blood of those damned thieves, and get out, got it?"

Marik's eyes widened, and he creeped closer to the voices, trying to hear better without being seen. He listened closely as the voices discussed how to get to the village, and what to do once they got there, but by the time they had finished, Marik had already set off on a horse he had "borrowed" from the stables. However, he got lost several times. It was noon, and the boy felt like he had been riding forever, but he pressed on, determination burning in his eyes.

But by the time he had reached the village, he was already too late. The sun was far passed set, and the soldiers had already killed the villagers and burned the village to its roots.

He stared in horror at the sight, his purple eyes wide with shock. He rode closer, this time a simple trot, and inspected the scene.

There was blood everywhere, bodies were carelessly strewn across the ground like toys, and the whole place was reduced to a few flickering flames in mere minutes. Marik desperately searched through the bodies, looking for any sign of life what so ever. _No one should have to see this. No one in a millennia should ever have to witness,_ _nor experience this hellhole, _he thought to himself.

There, under a bridge, lay a pure white boy, covered in blood, like a bleeding, broken angel. Marik got off his horse, and quickly walked over to the boy. "Hey, are you okay?" No response. The future Tombkeeper checked the boy's pulse. _So he really is alive..._

A beam from one of the near by houses fell, startling Marik. _This place is falling apart, I need to get him out of here!_

Marik picked up the fragile body, and ungracefully carried it onto the horses back, the boy's weight almost causing himself to fall a few times. He mounted the horse himself, and rode out of the burning village, as fast as possible without dropping the other boy.

Once he was a good distance away from Kul Elna, the young Tombkeeper-to-be unceremoniously hefted the pure white boy's body onto the sand. He checked that the boy was still alive, which, indeed he was, but he was fading fast. Marik fumbled around for a minute before remembering what to do in this situation. He quickly began applying pressure onto the boy's chest, one two three four, one two three four, one two three four... _Oh Ra, no, it's not working! What do I do, what do I do!? Don't tell me I have to..._ Marik sighed, he knew that there was no way to save this boy without doing so. He drew his face to the other boy's own, placing his lips onto his, and breathed out. He then broke away and applied pressure to his chest again, then resuscitated from his mouth once more. One, two, three, four...

He leaned in to give the boy one more puff of air, when the pure white boy grabbed onto the Tombkeeper's heir's throat. "Kiss me again and I'll condemn you to a fate worse than death."


	3. Partners

Marik scrambled away from the white haired boy's grip, coughing and rubbing at his neck. "I was trying to save your friggin' life!"

"I don't need my life saved by a damned bloody fool," the white haired boy retorted.

"Well next time maybe I won't save your friggin' life!" It wasn't much of a retort, but it was all he had.

"There won't be a next time."

"Well you should at least thank me! You _were_ going to die, you were unconscious and everything! I had to rescue you from that burning village!"

"What the bloody hell are yo-" the white haired boy froze, suddenly remembering what had happened. How had it slipped his mind in the first place?

Marik noticed the other boy's sudden look of defeat, and his own gaze softened. "Hey, look, I'm sorry. My name's Marik, what's yours?"

With out thinking, the boy replied automatically. "Bakura."

Marik grinned and held his hand out for him to shake. "Nice to meet you Bakura!"

Bakura growled under his breath, "Can't say the same to you."

Marik responded by tackling him, "I heard that, Bakura!"

"What the bloody hell, Marik get the fuck off me!" Bakura attempted to shove him off, but Marik was larger, and certainly more well fed, so he was quite a bit heavier.

Marik chose to get the white-haired boy to secede by tickling him, which only worked for a few seconds before Bakura did the same to him, which caused him to collapse into a fit of laughter.

After laughing so hard he thought he must have coughed up his own lung, Marik asked Bakura the lingering question. "So, what now?"

Bakura thought for a moment. "I'll get revenge on the Pharaoh. He had no right to destroy everything I owned," he growled.

Marik nodded. "I think I'd like to help you."

The white-haired boy smirk, stifling a laugh. "You? Help me? Ha! You're not even a good thief, let alone you're naive, unintelligent, and you can't even follow directions can you? Where do you even live your pampered life anyway?"

Marik hissed, "That's not true! I'm intelligent, and I'll have you know that I have a better life than you do! I live in the palace!"

Bakura snarled. "So you're one of them?! You're one of those sodding palace dogs, never having to work for yourself? You think I could trust you after your bleeding Pharaoh approved the destruction of my home? Even if I did let you join me, you'd just drag me down, all you're good for is feeding grapes to 'His Royal Majesty!'"

"I'm not like them! I tried to _save_ you, remember? I would never agree to something that horrible, even if it was to save my own life! And I'm not good for nothing Bakura, I'm plenty friggin' useful! I bet you I could haul twice the load you could!" Marik growled back.

"I'd like to see you try, palace dog," Bakura smirked.

"That does it, it's tickle time for you, Fluffy!" Marik grinned, and tackled him once more, tickling him, which once again ended in both of them coughing up there own lungs do to laughter.

"Fine, fine, I'll let you work with me, so long as you don't start tickling me every five bloody minutes!" Bakura hissed.

"Alright, but I don't make any promises!" Marik grinned.

After an awkward moment of silence, Marik held out his hand. "Partners?"

Bakura thought for a moment, then shook it. "Partners."


End file.
